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by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis isn’t game outside of heats, but there are other things.





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**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “As a beta, Prompto can be reasy to go whenever he's in the mood - and as a hirmonal young man its not hard to get him in the mood. As an omega, Noctis is essentially asexual and unable to oragasm or even get aroused outside of his heats. They make it work anyways” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9170059#cmt9170059).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s one of those rare evenings where neither of them has any plans—Prompto has the weekend off and even Ignis gave the okay for Noctis to stay in. So the two of them are lounging on the couch, soaking it in while they can. Prompto’s curled up at Noctis’ side, knees folded over Noctis’ lap, head lolling on Noctis’ shoulder. The television’s off, the game consoles put away. But Noctis’ phone sort of doubles for both. He’s tapping away at his latest game—for once, not something King’s Knight related. This one’s a remake of Prompto’s console favourite, only with all the characters simplified as chibis. It’s not as expansive as the original, but it’s neat to see it re-imagined. Except its specs are crazy and his own phone can’t handle it. Noctis’ can. And Noctis would probably buy him a new one if he asked, but Prompto’s not that kind of boyfriend.

Besides, it’s cozy like this—just relaxing and cuddling with Noctis. It’s fun seeing Noctis’ reactions, and even more fun to laugh together over how silly the more serious cut-scenes are with sprites that don’t even have moving mouths. And Noctis is good at it—as good as he is at everything—and he whizzes through the grueling quest system faster than Prompto ever could.

Of course, just watching isn’t _quite_ as engrossing as actually playing it. And having seen the story, there are moments where Prompto’s attention drifts. His gaze will wander from the little screen to Noctis’ lap, along his lean stomach and toned chest, up all the taut muscles hidden beneath his rumpled shirt. Prompto reaches his face, his blue eyes lost in his game. For a long moment, Prompto just stares at Noctis’ face. And it strikes Prompto, like it does every now and again, how very _handsome_ his prince truly is. He knows he’s lucky. _So_ lucky. Prompto could stare at Noctis for hours.

And there’s more temptation than just his pretty face. He smells amazing. Prompto leans in to take a subtle whiff, drinking that in too. Prompto’s only a beta, and he can’t smell whatever omega pheromones Noctis might be putting out. But as a person, Noctis smells great anyway. Prompto buries his face in Noctis’ neck, his entire body arching into Noctis’, as he revels in just how _perfectly_ Noctis fits into his arms. 

Noctis snorts but keeps playing. He’s used to Prompto’s squirming. Prompto nuzzles into the crook of Noctis’ shoulder, eyes trailing down Noctis’ body again, and he finds himself fixated on Noctis’ lap. Noctis looks even better when he’s naked. But it’s been almost three weeks since Prompto got to see that. He does, of course, wish he could have Noctis _all the time._

But he can’t, and he accepts that, so the kiss he presses to Noctis’ cheek is as innocent as he can make it. Even though he wants to shove his tongue down Noctis’ throat. Noctis smiles wryly, glancing over at him, and leans up to return the favour by pecking Prompto’s forehead.

The affection just makes it worse. Prompto bites his bottom lip in lieu of saying what he wants. He wants _Noctis_. But Noctis’ heat isn’t for another week at least, and he never has any sexual interested outside of that. Prompto always makes an effort to respect that line.

That leaves only one option. With a forlorn sigh, he detangles himself from Noctis. He climbs off the couch and makes it half a step before Noctis asks, “Where’re you going?”

Prompto turns back, even though he knows he’s probably blushing bright with embarrassment. He nods towards the washroom, and because he knows Noctis will notice when he’s gone conspicuously long, he adds, “To... y’know.”

Noctis’ cheeks colour a little too, but not nearly as bad as Prompto’s always do. Noctis just says, “Oh.” Prompto nods. They’ve been through this before.

So Prompto continues on his way, making it only another step before Noctis calls, “Prom.”

“What?”

Noctis opens his mouth, but the phone chimes before any words come out. He glances down to pause the game, then up to reach out a hand. Prompto hesitates but takes it.

Noctis tugs him back. Prompto crumples easily, returning to the couch and sitting down where Noctis puts him, even though he’s sure Noctis can see the obvious tent in his pants. Noctis doesn’t look at it, just tells him, “You don’t have to leave. Just... do it here.”

If possible, Prompto blushes even harder. They’ve never done that before. He mumbles, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Honestly... it’s weirder that you keep flittering off every time you wanna jerk off. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

Prompto feels like he should argue that but can’t figure out how. It doesn’t seem right to subject Noctis to any form of sex that he’s not into. But Noctis looks at him as steadily, as casually as ever, and of course, Prompto doesn’t _want_ to leave. Which just makes him feel guiltier. He’s not sure he even could do it with Noctis near him and so uninterested.

But then Noctis murmurs, “ _Prom_ ,” and it comes out so firmly that it’s almost a princely command. A shiver runs down Prompto’s spine. He never could resist Noctis. He’s too hard.

He swallows and nods, ready to obey. He still unbuckles his pants slowly, hesitantly watching Noctis, waiting for Noctis to change his mind. But Noctis doesn’t. Even as Prompto pulls his stiff cock out, Noctis keeps his eyes locked with Prompto’s. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

Noctis is _so_ hot. He was Prompto’s first crush and is still the most desirable person Prompto could ever conceive of. He sucks in a breath and starts, lifting his hand up to shamefully lick his palm before he returns to stroking his long shaft. It probably should be difficult to stay in the mood, given that he knows Noctis won’t do the same. But it isn’t. Looking at Noctis keeps him thick and throbbing. Noctis is just so _gorgeous._ And he’s an amazing boyfriend. Even if their designations aren’t a perfect match. Sometimes he wishes he were an alpha so he could plug Noctis up properly, but other times he’s glad he’s just a beta, so he can enjoy Noctis’ beauty all the time. Or maybe it’d be cool if they were both omegas—but then what if their heats didn’t match? Too many ‘if’s. They’re fine the way they are. Even if they’re not supposed to work the way they are, they do.

Noctis doesn’t look at his cock at all. It would probably be a buzz-kill if the eye contact weren’t so exhilarating. As Prompto works into a steady rhythm, he pants, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Noctis tells him, simply and easily. Head leaning back against the couch cushions, Noctis mutters, “Besides... I sort of like the intimacy of it. Our connection, y’know?”

Prompto stutters, “Y-yeah,” and fully understands. He really does. He knows this still won’t happen every time. But knowing it can happen _sometimes_ is great. Better than great. Prompto could slink off to the bathroom and think about anyone and anything he wanted, but he’d rather sit next to his boyfriend and think only of Noctis, see only Noctis, until that drives him over the edge.

It doesn’t take as long as usual. Noctis does that to him. He cups his other hand over the head as his orgasm hits him, trying not to make a mess of Noctis’ living room as he barrels past his limit. His head tosses back, a ragged moan spilling out of him. His hips buck up into his hand, fingers busily pumping it all out. He catches it and keeps going. Noctis even drops a hand to thigh, just idly resting there, but it’s enough to milk out the rest. Prompto loves it. Loves Noctis.

He slumps when he’s finished. Panting and boneless, he stares dizzily up at the ceiling. Sometimes life’s too good, and he still has trouble believing it’s real.

Noctis hums, “You’re cute,” and pecks his cheek.

Prompto smiles weakly and mumbles, “Am I at least allowed to leave to clean myself up?” Not that he wants to. But he sort of has to.

Noctis benevolently decides: “If you come right back.”

With his hands too dirty to use, Prompto leans in and uses his face to nuzzle Noctis’ shoulder. He spends a few seconds just enjoying that, soaking in Noctis’ warmth and basking in the afterglow.

Then he gets up to wash off, hurrying so he can be back by his boyfriend’s side as fast as he possibly can.


End file.
